By Denise Donohue, MEd
I’m listening to one of my favorite Beatles songs, A Day in the Life. I played it over and over after my uncle died.
He was my favorite uncle, and he was killed in a motorcycle accident when he was in his twenties. I often wonder if he ever knew he was my favorite. Not that my other uncles weren’t special, but there’s something about a young uncle. They’re cooler somehow. He always showed up with a new girlfriend, a big smile, and a way of making everyone around him feel important. Without even trying, he won my heart.
Years later, in my early teens, I dated a young man I liked very much. We didn’t date for long, but I still remember the night
we got into an argument in the McDonald’s parking lot, the unofficial gathering place for our little town.
We said ugly things to each other that we didn’t mean. He got in his car and drove away.
That was the last time I saw him.
Four hours later, I got the phone call that he had been in a motorcycle accident and died after hitting a telephone pole.
Believe it or not, this isn’t an essay about my fear of motorcycles, although I could certainly write that one, too.
This is about the things we leave unsaid.
Losing people so suddenly taught me something early in life: tomorrow is never guaranteed. Because of that, I made a decision long ago that I would never hold back my feelings.
Even in the hardest moments with my ex, he always knew how deeply I loved him, both through my words and my actions. I never wanted there to be any doubt.
Some people are naturally more reserved with their emotions. Some people protect themselves by keeping their feelings close. I understand that. We all learn to love differently.
But for me, love has always sounded like saying the thing. Sending the text. Making the call. Letting people know they matter while I still have the chance.
Life is too short to assume people know how we feel.
There weren’t any more tomorrows for my uncle. There weren’t any more tomorrows for that young man.
So if I care about you, you’ll know it.
That’s the lesson grief taught me, and it’s one I don’t plan to unlearn.
Denise Donahue is a Licensed School Counselor, Certified Health Coach, Certified Teen Life Coach, Social and Emotional Wellness Consultant and in her spare time, she runs a little ice cream shop Wheeler Whirl, and she’s also the Mayor for the City of Wheeler
